Those times, my happiest of all, when I lose myself to the voids of the city. Those times, I forget all forms of navigation. I walk aimlessly in the streets, down narrow alleys, and through main plazas.
I lose direction. I lose the story, the beginning and the end. I lose the context.
I surrender to the spatial world. To the facades that speak of both history and modernity, to the cobblestone of the ancient streets, to trees of thousands years of age, to the rivers that gave birth to civilizations, to God’s marvelous creations, the mountains the guardians of cities, to the infinite night sky holding the city together at times of darkness, and to the vast oceans responding to the city’s miseries.
Those times, the city whispers into my ears, comforts me.
I hear nothing but music I have written in my head. Lyrics that instantly pours into my mind. Describing every turn I take on my endless path, every street I walk on, every façade that stares back at me, and every sunset I fall in love with. I create songs that I sing to the vast walls of the city, to the chirping birds of the morning, to the barks of the neighbor’s dogs, to the ancients who had built the glorious past.
I sing along the flowing rivers. I sing along the rising cranes. And the ever changing skyline.
With every footstep on every floor pattern, with every breath I inhale, and with every pounding of my heart, the city and I, we sing together.
I then speak with the name of the city, and the city speaks with mine. The city sees with my eyes and I watch the world through its eyes. The city slowly swallows me.
Those times, the city becomes myself, and I become the city.
Those times, the city and I, we become one.